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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29972652">you can't undo the past</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rehearsal_Dweller/pseuds/Rehearsal_Dweller'>Rehearsal_Dweller</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Missing Scene, Time Loop, implied Jack/Davey - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 03:22:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,823</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29972652</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rehearsal_Dweller/pseuds/Rehearsal_Dweller</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack has a few options now, and none of them are good.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>David Jacobs &amp; Jack Kelly, Jack Kelly &amp; Katherine Plumber Pulitzer, Les Jacobs &amp; Jack Kelly, Racetrack Higgins &amp; Jack Kelly</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>38</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. trapped where there ain't no future</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Today marks one year since I posted my very first newsies fic! So I thought it would be fun to revisit the thing that brought me to Newsies fic writing in the first place - oh, yeah, this is another post rally fic. But with a very interesting twist that I am not going to spoil for you :)</p><p>Thank you to everybody who's read my fics this year and cheered me on! I hope you guys like this as much as I do!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jack wakes up, his neck protesting the awkward angle he’d fallen asleep at, resting against the cold metal of the old printing press in the cellar at the World. He’d probably have been happier just sleeping on the floor, but he’d deserved this, really. Confronting Pulitzer had been stupid, and he hadn’t even told Davey that was what he was planning to do, which meant that even yesterday afternoon he’d <em>known</em> it was stupid.</p><p>Davey would’ve told him not to come.</p><p>That doesn’t necessarily mean that Pulitzer wouldn’t have tried to track him down anyway, tried to blackmail him like this. Just that it would’ve been harder if Jack hadn’t been such a fucking moron.</p><p>He has a few options now.</p><p>Option one: stand his ground. Tell the Delanceys or whoever comes to let him out of here that he’s taking the deal, but when he gets to the rally tell the boys what’s up and convince them to keep fighting. Potentially dangerous for him and at least a few others – Jack is nothing if not terrified of going back to the Refuge, and the risk of sending Davey and any of the others there along with him is enough to make him hesitate. On the other hand, this is important. It’s bigger than just Jack, or even Jack and Davey. This is proving to the people in power that just because they’re kids doesn’t mean they can be walked all over. This is keeping his boys from starving or sleeping on the streets because they can’t scrape together enough money for food or rent.</p><p>Option two: take the deal. As much as he hates to admit it, it’s a tempting offer. Not just the money – although the idea of finally having enough to get the fuck out of New York is harder to refuse than Jack is comfortable owning up to – but the guarantee of staying out of the Refuge. The protection for Davey and the boys. That’s what he keeps circling back to, really. Fuck the money, are Jack’s boys going to be safe? But will they be safe if this price hike stays, worse, if Pulitzer decides to bump the price again in a few months? A year? Is keeping them out of the Refuge worth not being able to afford help if someone gets sick or hurt when winter comes?</p><p>No, really there’s no choice about it. And if he gave in, Davey and the others could never forgive him and Jack wouldn’t want them to.</p><p>When the Delanceys come back, trailed by one of Pulitzer’s lackeys in fancy clothes.</p><p>“So, young man,” says the fancy guy, “have you thought through Mr. Pulitzer’s offer?”</p><p>“For sure,” says Jack. He straightens up. It’s somewhat satisfying to realize that he’s actually a few inches taller than this guy when he stands all the way straight. He schools his face into something as even as possible. He can’t give the game away. “I’m in.”</p><p>“We knew you’d see sense,” says Pulitzer’s guy.</p><p>It takes all of Jack’s willpower not to scoff.</p><p><em>Sense</em>, he says. Sense, like going along with all this is the <em>right</em> thing to do. It makes Jack want to gag just thinking about it but yeah, yeah. That’s the sensible choice.</p><p>So Jack lets them give him a lovely little carriage ride to Medda’s theatre, and he slips in through the stage door.</p><p>The newsies of New York City are already assembled, with Davey standing side-by-side with Spot Conlon at center stage.</p><p>Jack pauses for a moment, watching from the wings. Spot is Spot, of course, small and sturdy and immovable, with his arms crossed over his chest and a flat, determined frown on his face. It’s Davey that Jack can’t look away from, though. Davey, who’s been avoiding being the center of attention all week, who’d rather step aside and push Jack forward, standing in front of the crowd of newsies like he owns the place.</p><p>His shoulders are square, his hands out to the side as he eggs the crowd on instead of tucked anxiously into his pockets. His voice is carrying clear over the cacophony of the newsies. He looks nervous, but Jack figures that won’t read to the back of the room. To the majority of the boys, Davey probably looks cool and collected and confident. But Jack has seen genuine confidence and certainty on Davey’s faintly freckled face, and this ain’t it.</p><p>It’s subtle, but Jack can see it. The tension in his shoulders, the way he’s shifting slightly side-to-side, the way he’s chewing on his lower lip between words. Jack has spent a lot of time these past few days observing Davey, intentionally and not, and can read between the lines the ways that Davey is intentionally suppressing the more obvious signs of his nerves while letting the less conscious ones shine through.</p><p>“Today, we show the world that we are just as much a part of the newspaper as any reporter or editor! We’re done being treated like kids – from now on, they <em>will</em> treat us as equals!” Davey says, and then there’s a lull as the boys cheer that Jack takes as his cue to join Davey onstage.</p><p>“Damn right!” he says, crossing the stage with large steps. He bumps his shoulder against Davey’s, coming to a stop right next to him facing the boys.</p><p>“And here’s Jack!” says Davey, and Jack can’t help but notice the quiet sigh of relief that he lets out, the way the tension in his shoulders releases with a snap. Lower, he says, “Where’ve you been, Jackie?”</p><p>Jack pats his shoulder, his gaze still on the assembled newsboys. “You ain’t gonna believe it.”</p><p>“Try me,” says Davey.</p><p>“Sorry I’m late, boys,” Jack says, directed to the crowd. “See, I spent last night enjoyin’ the generous hospitality of Mr. Joseph Pulitzer – that is to say, locked up in the cellar’a the World’s offices.”</p><p>A hush falls over the boys, tense silence following Jack’s words. Davey takes in a sharp breath, and Jack can feel his eyes boring into him.</p><p>“See, Mr. Pulitzer thought he’d be able to <em>bribe</em> me into betrayin’ the strike,” Jack continues. “Thought if he threatened me an’ my boys –“ he gestures vaguely between himself and Davey – “enough, he could get me to fold. Funny thing, though. The whole time he was talkin’, all I heard was him sayin’ <em>I’m scared’a you. I gotta get the boys on top outta the way, ‘cause if I don’t these kids’s gonna win</em>.”</p><p>Jack glances over at Davey, who’s staring at him with wide eyes and his mouth hanging slightly open, his brow furrowed. “Ain’t that right, Davey?”</p><p>“Absolutely,” Davey says firmly. To the boys, he adds, “If Pulitzer is resorting to threats and bribery, it’s only because he thinks that’s the only way he can win. It’s a last resort.”</p><p>“Right,” Jack agrees, nodding. “So! That’s proof for all’a ya that we can’t back down now – f’we stand together, we can win. We <em>will</em> win. So vote yes to continue the strike, and nobody can take us down!”</p><p>There’s an uproar of cheering from the boys, and in the height of it, Davey leans close.</p><p>“Jack, is that true?”</p><p>“Tol’ja you wouldn’t believe me.”</p><p>“Jack.”</p><p>“It’s true,” Jack says softly. “So wat’cha back, ‘kay? ‘Cause Joe threatened you by name.”</p><p>“Me?” Davey replies, stunned. “Why –“</p><p>“You’re my partner, Davey.” Jack shakes his head. “You’re more dangerous to Pulitzer’n I am, that’s for sure. But it seems like he figured I’d give in to keep you safe. An’ I gotta admit, it did make me think twice.”</p><p>“I’m glad you didn’t,” says Davey. “This is bigger than you and me.”</p><p>Jack nods, patting Davey’s arm again.</p><p>Before he can answer, though, he realizes that the chaos in the room has shifted from excitement to fear, and the boys are scattering.</p><p>The room is flooding with cops from all directions.</p><p>Jack grabs Davey by the arm and makes a break for the wings, only to find Warden Snyder himself waiting there for them.</p><p>“Thought you’d be <em>smart</em>, did you, Kelly?” Snyder says, gripping Jack’s upper arm so tightly it hurts.</p><p>Some goon – big, tall, and broad with a square face and a mean expression – grabs Davey, holding him tight even as the younger boy tries to squirm away.</p><p>“You knew what the consequences would be, <em>boy</em>,” says Snyder. He nods to the guy holding Davey, who grins this absolutely <em>horrible</em> grin and punches Davey in the stomach. He doubles over, and Jack has to look away, biting down hard on the inside of his lip.</p><p>
  <em>This was the right thing to do, this was the right thing to do, this was –</em>
</p><p>“Davey!” Les’s little voice screams, out of Jack’s line of sight but nearby. “Jack! Help!”</p><p>Jack tries to wrench himself out of Snyder’s grip, to move toward Les’s shouts, but the hand on his arm just tightens.</p><p>“Oh, no you don’t,” Snyder says, and it’s almost a growl. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it? You stood your ground and now all of your little friends are going to suffer for it.”</p><p>“Jack!” Davey says, a little wheezy. Jack’s head snaps over, drawn to the sound of Davey’s voice. The goon holding onto him has clearly taken full advantage of Snyder’s okay to use Davey as his own personal punching bag, but Davey looks back at Jack with a determined gaze. “It’s okay.”</p><p>Fist meets face, and when Davey meets Jack’s eye again his face is red and his nose is misaligned and bleeding, but he still nods to Jack.</p><p>Jack has seen a lot of kids on the wrong side of a fight – been there himself more times than he’d like, too – but this feels different. Davey getting beat to hell over something Jack did, over a fight Jack picked, and not even by somebody his own size has Jack feeling all kinds of scrambled inside. He’s seen his share of broken noses, but seeing Davey’s makes his head spin and his stomach want to rebel. Good thing he hasn’t eaten today.</p><p>Jack can still hear the chaos on the stage and in the house, but in a sort of distant, echoing way, like it’s all a lot further away than it is. If he strains, he can still pick out Les’s voice, and Race’s, even Spot Conlon’s venomous grumbling.</p><p>This is all his fault.</p><p>This is all his fault.</p><p>This is <em>all his fault.</em></p><p>His fault for not taking the deal.</p><p>His fault for going to Pulitzer.</p><p>His fault for starting the strike at all.</p><p>“Starting to get the picture, aren’t you, Kelly?” Snyder says, almost gleeful. “Not looking so brave anymore.”</p><p>Jack wants to give into it, wants to break down and beg Snyder to stop, but at the same time he knows – he <em>knows</em> – he can’t. He’s made his bed, he’s got to lie in it.</p><p>He’s brought this down on their heads, he’s got to suffer it.</p><p>“Bite me,” he spits.</p><p>“Wrong answer,” says Snyder. He twists Jack’s arm around behind him, fingernails actually breaking the skin.</p><p>Jack’s so focused on that that he doesn’t even see the fist coming.</p><p>The rest is a blur, as Jack and Davey are dragged out to a waiting wagon out back of the stage door. They’re both shoved unceremoniously into the back, bumping up against each other’s injuries new and old.</p><p>“Davey, I’m sorry,” Jack says, reaching blindly for his friend through the dark of the windowless cabin. “I’m so sorry.”</p><p>“It’s alright, Jack,” Davey replies, catching Jack’s fingers with his own. His voice sounds ragged, like he can’t quite catch his breath.</p><p>“No, no, it’s not alright,” says Jack. “This is all my fault. You’re hurt cause’a me. Who knows how many other boys are, too.”</p><p>“You did what was right,” insists Davey. He squeezes Jack’s hand. “It’s worth it, Jack. It’s worth it. This is bigger than the two of us. You had to try.”</p><p>“Just wish –“ Jack starts, only then he tries to shift closer to Davey and ends up pressing on a half-healed bruise from the first riot. He breathes in sharply, regretting the move immediately. It doesn’t hurt half as bad as when he got it, but he figures he’d probably deserve that. “Wish none’a this had ever happened. Wish I had another shot to fix everything.”</p><p>“You can’t undo the past,” Davey says softly. “That’s what you said yesterday, right? We’ve got to live with the decisions we’ve made. We had to try.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Jack says. He’s not so sure of that anymore, but Davey is right about one thing – he’s got to live with this. Probably for the rest of his life. “We had to try.”</p><p>Jack holds onto Davey in the dark. Neither of them says anything else before a few more boys are tossed in with them and the wagon sets off. He hears Race speaking softly, a quiet but steady stream of words of comfort to someone who’d been thrown in with him.</p><p>“I gotcha,” Race is saying, “I gotcha, you’re okay, you’ll be okay, you hear me?”</p><p>There’s a whining sob in response, and Jack feels Davey stiffen.</p><p>“Les?”</p><p>“Davey?”</p><p>“Les!”</p><p>Davey jerks away from Jack, diving toward the sound of his little brother’s voice. “I was hoping no one would grab you. I hoped you’d got away.”</p><p>“S’okay, Davey,” Les says, and his voice is shaky and shallow but he’s doing a pretty good job pushing through. “Race was lookin’ out for me. Weren’cha, Racer?”</p><p>“I tried, Daves,” says Race. He sounds younger than ever, his voice high and strained, breaking on Davey's name.</p><p>“I know, Race,” Davey replies. “It’s okay. At least we’re together, right? Jack?”</p><p>Jack hums in vague agreement, not quite willing to commit. <em>Les</em> is here. Sweet little Les, on his way to the Refuge.</p><p>Jack leans back against the side of the wagon, closing his eyes. He tries to let the wagon’s movement lull him to sleep, despite the pain and the guilt and the frustration.</p><p>At least when they get to the Refuge, he’ll be able to see for himself Crutchie’s okay.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. I wanna start brand new</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jack wakes up, sunlight creeping pointedly through small, high windows. His neck is protesting the awkward angle he’d slept at, and it takes Jack a full minute of consciousness to figure out exactly where he is. He doesn’t remember arriving at the Refuge last night and –</p>
<p>And he’s not at the Refuge, anyway.</p>
<p>He’s in the cellar of the World.</p>
<p>He’s sitting on the printing press, exactly where he’d woken up yesterday. Or had it been yesterday?</p>
<p>Had it all been some kind of horrible nightmare?</p>
<p>He can still feel the imprint of Snyder’s fingernails in his upper arm, but when he pushes his sleeve up there are no crescent-shaped indentations, no evidence at all of where fingernails had carved through his skin with enough force to draw blood.</p>
<p>Oh, God, blood – it’s all Jack can do not to throw up when the memory of Davey’s bloody, broken face comes back to him. Maybe it <em>was</em> just a dream, but it was vivid. Every second of it stands out clear as day in his mind.</p>
<p>Jack can’t watch Davey and the others get hurt like that again.</p>
<p>The Delanceys arrive, trailed just like they were in Jack’s dream by that assistant of Pulitzer’s. The bald one.</p>
<p>“So, young man,” Pulitzer’s assistant says, in the same condescending tone as in Jack’s dream, “have you thought through Mr. Pulitzer’s offer?”</p>
<p>“For sure,” says Jack. He stands, feeling a little dizzy. He hates what he’s about to do, but he cannot risk things going the way he dreamed. “I’m in.”</p>
<p>“We knew you’d see sense,” says Pulitzer’s guy.</p>
<p>“Sense,” Jack echoes, a little nauseous. “Right.”</p>
<p>Just like in the dream, Pulitzer’s people bring Jack to the theatre. This time he’s got his wits about him enough to notice the conspicuous number of sketchy characters lurking just a little ways away. Maybe Jack’s dream had been prophetic.</p>
<p>Actually, the whole thing is so uncanny that Jack is less and less sure that it <em>was</em> a dream, but he can’t really figure what else it might’ve been.</p>
<p>He stands in the wings, watching.  Davey and Spot are side-by-side at center stage, just like Jack remembers. He can see the tension in Davey’s shoulders, despite his open, confident stance. Despite the way his voice carries clear across the crowd. He can see the furrow in Davey’s brow even from here. The way he’s chewing on his lower lip.</p>
<p>In the end, that’s what clinches the thing for Jack.</p>
<p>“We are <em>done</em> being treated like kids!” Davey says. “They <em>will</em> treat us as equals!”</p>
<p>Jack pushes out onstage, swallowing back the sick feeling threatening to overtake him with what he’s about to do.</p>
<p>“You wanna be treated like an adult?” Jack says as coldly as he can, coming to stand next to Davey. “Start actin’ like one, don’t just run your mouth.”</p>
<p>“And here’s Jack!” Davey says, visibly relieved that Jack is here, despite his words. Jack wishes he could warn him what’s about to happen, could tell him that he’s doing this to protect him.</p>
<p>There’s an uproar, a chant of Jack’s name starting from the little knot of Manhattan boys up front, but it dies to almost nothing as Jack starts to speak again.</p>
<p>He’d rather they drown him out.</p>
<p>“A’right, a’right,” Jack says. “Pulitzer –“ he sighs, steeling himself – “raised the price of papes without so much as a word to us, and that was a lousy thing to do.”</p>
<p>There’s a general murmur of agreement.</p>
<p>“So we got mad,” continues Jack. “Said we ain’t gonna get pushed around – so we go on strike. And then what happens? Pulitzer lowers the price’a papes, so’s we go back to work.”</p>
<p>The crowd agrees, with a little more energy this time.</p>
<p>Davey, next to Jack, seems to have clued into something being wrong. The furrow between his brows has deepened and his arms are crossed.</p>
<p>“Only a few weeks after that, he hikes the price again, and don’t think he won’t,” Jack says. He can’t look at Davey anymore. “So what do we do then, huh? And what do we do after that if he decides to raise his prices <em>again</em>? Fellas, we gotta be realistic – if we don’t work, we don’t get paid. And how long can you go without gettin’ paid, really? Because however long, I guarantee you Pulitzer can go longer.”</p>
<p>“Jack,” Davey says. Jack doesn’t turn around. He can’t.</p>
<p>“I’ve talked to Mr. Pulitzer,” Jack says, and the words taste awful in his mouth, “and he’s given me his word that if we disband the union –“</p>
<p>Uproar.</p>
<p>“- if we disband the union,” Jack repeats, because he <em>has</em> to get this out, “he will not raise the prices again for two years, and he’ll even put that in writing. All you have to do is vote no. Vote no!”</p>
<p>Chaos erupts in the crowd and on the stage. Davey is saying something, Jack can’t hear a word of it, his ears ringing.</p>
<p>Spot Conlon grabs Jack by the shoulder, wrenching him around so he can throw a punch. Jack ducks it and bolts for the wings.</p>
<p>Pulitzer’s assistant is standing there, waiting for him.</p>
<p>“Good boy,” he says, a condescending smile on his face. He hands Jack a stack of bills. It’s more money than Jack has ever seen in one place in his whole life. “Here you are.”</p>
<p>The boys onstage see this exchange, and Jack makes the mistake of glancing back.</p>
<p>He meets Davey’s eye.</p>
<p>Davey is standing stock still exactly where Jack left him at center stage, his whole body slack with shock.</p>
<p>He looks completely and utterly betrayed. Appropriate, since Jack just stabbed him in the back in front of everyone.</p>
<p>Jack feels like he might be sick, a wash of dizziness threatening to overwhelm him.</p>
<p>He turns on his heel and runs. He runs and runs and runs until he can’t anymore, until he’s standing out front of the train station.</p>
<p>Jack collapses on the steps, pulling his knees to his chest. He can’t <em>breathe</em>.</p>
<p>He thought seeing Davey beaten to hell was bad – and it was, it was so fucking bad – but he’d never have expected the heavy, crushing weight that would settle over him at that look of pure betrayal on Davey’s face. He presses his face to his knees, trying to catch a breath in anything other than a sob.</p>
<p>He had to do this, he <em>had</em> to do this, because he cannot be responsible for all of his boys getting hurt. He can’t be the reason that sweet little Les goes to the Refuge. Can’t be the reason that brilliant, determined Davey goes to the Refuge.</p>
<p>Can’t be the reason Race, so recently released that he’d gone pure white pale when Jack mentioned crossing paths with Snyder a few days back, goes back.</p>
<p>What he’d seen in his – dream? Jack is less sure now, so much less than he was before because so much was exactly as he’d seen it before – what he’d seen last time around had proved that to him. He wishes he had the guts to stand his ground, but after last night…</p>
<p>The thing is, Jack is all for the ethics of the thing. Stand their ground, do the best they can for the most kids, push through and win the day.</p>
<p>But when it came down to looking at his boys, at <em>his boys</em>, none of that mattered anymore. It didn’t matter Davey kept saying that this was bigger than the two of them because Jack was looking at Davey’s broken face and listening to Race be brave for Les and it slammed Jack right back into reality.</p>
<p>They could talk all day long about how important this is, but none of it is worth the lives of Jack’s friends to him. Not all the papes in the world are worth that.</p>
<p>Maybe that’s Jack being weak. Maybe he’s a coward. But he’d rather be a coward than see what the Refuge would do to Davey.</p>
<p>He’d rather be a coward than get anybody else hurt.</p>
<p>And anyway, he’d spoken the truth, hadn’t he? For all that he wishes it weren’t true, for all that he believes that Pulitzer really is scared of the newsies banding together… he can withstand the losses a lot longer than any newsie can. Three days in and kids are already going without food, already not quite able to make rent. Most of them don’t have much saved, on account of being poor is fucking expensive.</p>
<p>And Jack started all this.</p>
<p>Jack dragged them all into it – dragged Davey fucking kicking and screaming, didn’t he? Davey didn’t want any of this, Davey tried to talk him out of it, but then Jack had stared him down, had taunted him about his father, had won him over, and for <em>what?</em></p>
<p>For a bad idea and a worse payoff.</p>
<p>Jack is dizzy, exhausted, and aching, with guilt and shame and fear weighing him down almost tangibly.</p>
<p>None of this should have happened, he wishes he could go back and make sure none of this ever happened, but he can’t.</p>
<p>He can’t.</p>
<p><em>So just move on</em>, he hears in the back of his head, a taunting echo of Davey’s voice from the morning after the riot (from yesterday-not-yesterday). Jack swallows, trying to clear the tight lump from his throat. It doesn’t work.</p>
<p>He stands up, skimming his fingers through his hair. He’s got to find ticketing – as soon as they open tomorrow, he’s buying the earliest ticket to Santa Fe they can fucking give him.</p>
<p>He pushes out of his mind the fact that this isn’t what Davey meant.</p>
<p>There’s a bench near the entrance that Jack throws himself onto to wait for sunrise and the train station opening for the day. He settles with his elbows resting on his knees and his head in his hands. Come morning, Jack will leave and he’ll never have to think about any of this ever again.</p>
<p>Assuming he can get to Santa Fe without the guilt swallowing him whole.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. gotta be either dead or dreaming</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry for the delay, folks! I meant to have this up a few days ago, but life happened. This one's a little shorter but it's by design, with a small warning for Extreme Jack Kelly Guilt.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jack opens his eyes.</p>
<p>His neck hurts.</p>
<p>Fucking hell.</p>
<p>This is what hell is, Jack thinks. Trapped and doomed to repeat the worst day of his fucking life forever. If Jack isn’t dead, he wishes he were.</p>
<p>His neck isn’t all that hurts, this time. He can still feel the place where Snyder’s fingernails had clawed into him on the first night and his feet are protesting his marathon run to the train station on the second.</p>
<p> Plus, of course, there’s the heavy weight of guilt sitting on his shoulders. It’s on the verge of crushing him, really, because it’s compounded guilt from getting Davey and the boys beat to hell and arrested <em>and</em> from betraying them and bolting. Jack is almost sure he’s never felt this guilty in his entire life.</p>
<p>(A teasing voice in his mind that sounds a lot like Race is telling him that that might mean he doesn’t go to church enough.)</p>
<p> He isn’t surprised when the Delancey brothers stomp down the stairs, Oscar trailing Morris by a few steps, both of them making entirely more noise than necessary. He isn’t surprised to see the short, bald man in the nice clothes who follows them, either, not even when he says, “So, young man, have you thought through Mr. Pulitzer’s offer?”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Jack says scratchily. Maybe if he breaks the script, he’ll break the cycle. “I’ve thought about it.”</p>
<p>“And?” Pulitzer’s guy prompts. “Have you seen sense?”</p>
<p>Jack feels almost nauseous. The universe is definitely toying with him.</p>
<p>“I’m in,” Jack replies. He hates it, he hates himself, he hates this situation, but if there’s one thing Jack knows it’s that he can’t risk getting the boys hurt again. Especially if he doesn’t know which loop is gonna stick.</p>
<p>“Good,” says the assistant, “we wouldn’t want you to have to see what would happen to your little friends if you hadn’t.”</p>
<p><em>Too fucking late</em>, Jack can’t help thinking. He nods with a vague grunt of agreement, which Mr. Suit-and-tie seems content with.</p>
<p>The rest is a vague sort of blur – getting dragged to street level by the Delancey boys, the carriage ride to the theatre, sneaking in the stage door – but it all slams into perfect clarity as Jack crosses the stage to stand next to Davey.</p>
<p>Even then, it’s a sort of out-of-body experience. Jack can feel his mouth moving, can feel his feet carrying him across the stage and his arms gesturing widely, but all he can focus on is Davey.</p>
<p>He’s not looking at Davey, but Jack knows exactly where he is.</p>
<p>He’s just to Jack’s left, a half step behind, looking on with shock and horror as Jack tries to tank everything they’ve worked for. He’s raising a hand to touch Jack’s arm, thinking better of it and tucking it back into his pocket. He’s saying Jack’s name – quiet, but clear even over the cacophony in the room – in this shocked whisper that hits Jack like a bullet to the heart.</p>
<p>Jack turns, because if the guilt is going to swallow him whole he at least wants to look Davey in the eye this time before it does. He feels a little bit like he might cry from the stress, a little bit like he might throw up, a lot bit like he wishes the ground would just open up and eat him alive before he can finish his speech.</p>
<p>“How long can you go without gettin’ paid, huh?” Jack says, around the lump in his throat and the dizzy feeling behind his eyes. “’Cause however long? Pulitzer <em>can</em> go longer.”</p>
<p>He breaks eye contact with Davey, turning back toward the crowd. Davey is too bright, too good, too much to look at right now with his hurt, confused expression, that faint crease between his eyebrows as he tries to puzzle Jack out.</p>
<p>Jack keeps talking, but Davey’s hand is on his shoulder, trying to wrench Jack back around.</p>
<p>“Jack,” he’s saying, “<em>Jack</em>, what are you doing? What are you talking about?”</p>
<p>He can’t look at Davey again, though, because if he does he might well lose his nerve.</p>
<p>“Vote no,” Jack finishes, with as much false conviction as he can muster.</p>
<p>All Hell breaks loose. Jack pulls away from Davey, making for backstage where he knows Pulitzer’s guy is waiting.</p>
<p>He takes the cash as it’s shoved into his chest, but then a little hand taps his arm and Jack makes to take an instinctive swing at the person it’s attached to.</p>
<p>He realizes a moment too late that it’s Les, who ducks him and bolts back to Davey. Suit-and-tie is gone, and Jack finds himself rooted to the spot by guilt.</p>
<p>The boys descend on him, everybody looking for a piece of him for being a sellout, a scab, a traitor, and Jack just lets them.</p>
<p>He doesn’t fight back. He takes the hits and the kicks and the pain because he deserves every single inch of it.</p>
<p>“Lay off him!” Davey’s voice cuts in, harsh. “Guys!” Jack thinks <em>someone</em> backs off then, but he still has at least two people doing their best to knock him into next week.</p>
<p>“Race!” Davey snaps. “Spot! Cut it out!”</p>
<p>Spot lands one last well placed punch to Jack’s stomach, winding him.</p>
<p>“He ain’t worth defendin’, Mouth,” Spot says.</p>
<p>“<em>Davey</em>,” Race whines, “you saw what he did.”</p>
<p>“Yes, I saw,” Davey says coldly. “That doesn’t mean you two need to – go this far.”</p>
<p>“It does,” Jack croaks, trying to catch enough air through protesting lungs to speak. “Deserve it.”</p>
<p>Davey hooks an arm under Jack’s, supporting him as he sways unsteadily.</p>
<p>“I’m not going to let them beat you half to death, Jack,” Davey says. He sounds bone-deep disappointed more than anything else.</p>
<p>“Why?” Jack blurts.</p>
<p>“Because they’re better than that,” says Davey, shaking his head. “And you’re better than this.”</p>
<p>“Screwed you an’ the strike for a payout,” Jack says, because he can’t bring himself to tell Davey the truth, “I d’serve everythin’ I get.”</p>
<p>Davey sighs. “Why’d you stay, Jack? Why not just cut and run?”</p>
<p>Jack nods toward Race and Spot, their images swimming in front of him. “F’r that.”</p>
<p>“Right,” says Davey. “Right. So, what? You’ve got some kinda death wish? You want some <em>punishment</em> for what you did?”</p>
<p>Jack doesn’t respond.</p>
<p>Davey shoves Jack into a sitting position on a crate.</p>
<p>“Your punishment is living with what you’ve done to all of us,” Davey says. His voice is oddly steady for how off balance he must be. “Knowing you tried to fuck over every single one of your friends for the sake of some cash, knowing you left Crutchie to Snyder’s mercy, knowing you stabbed me in the back.”</p>
<p> “You may be a traitor and a sellout, Jack, but you’re not worth my time or energy, and you’re not worth theirs.” Davey steps away. “That’s what you deserve. To live with what you did and to know that it doesn’t make a single ounce of difference. We don’t fucking need you.”</p>
<p>Davey turns on his heel and walks back toward where Race and Spot are still standing shoulder-to-shoulder, glaring at Jack.</p>
<p>“Let’s go,” Davey says, waving sharply to them. “We’ve got work to do.”</p>
<p>Jack watches the three of them leave, feeling a little bit like the floor’s been set at a sharp angle. He’s dizzy, he aches, it hurts to breathe, but he deserves this, he deserves this, he deserves this.</p>
<p>Jack is sure he’s in Hell now.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. answer the call and don't delay</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Inching closer to canon! Hope you enjoy, we're almost done ;)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jack’s neck hurts.</p>
<p>Also his everything fucking else hurts, because he let Race and Spot and a few others beat him to a pulp last night. The bruises are gone but it still hurts to breathe and move and exist.</p>
<p>Jack goes through the motions. He doesn’t really have the energy to deal with Oscar and Morris and –</p>
<p>“What’s your name?” Jack asks on the carriage ride.</p>
<p>“Uh – Bunsen,” Suit-and-tie responds, seemingly startled into speaking, “Stuart Bunsen. Why?”</p>
<p>“Dunno,” Jack lies. He’s been through three loops already and never bothered to ask. “Why’re you doin’ this, huh? Pulitzer could screw you just as easy as he screwed all’a us.”</p>
<p>“I wouldn’t go so far as to compare your situation to mine,” Bunsen says, but he looks a little bit uncomfortable. “If you boys had any money saved up, the initial shock of the price change wouldn’t have hit you so hard.”</p>
<p>Jack snorts. “You ever scraped by on pennies, Bunsen? Bein’ poor’s fuckin’ expensive, ‘specially when you got the lives and livelihoods of a dozen some kids on your conscience. Clothes, shoes, food, it all adds up, an’ when you’re scrapin’ by there’s nothin’ to save.” He hums thoughtfully. “S’why a bribe was a dick move on ol’ Joe’s part – nobody with nothin’ can turn down that much cash.”</p>
<p>He’s simplifying, of course, because it’s not like he could tell Bunsen the real reason he’s flipped even if he wanted to. And anyway, it’s not like it isn’t true. The things Jack could do with this kinda money – not once yet has he counted it, but he doesn’t need to to know that it’s more money than he’s ever seen or held in his life, that it’s enough to get him all the way to Santa Fe and start a new life, that it’s enough to feed and clothe all the Manhattan boys for months, even to get a real qualified professional in when somebody gets sick or soaked too bad.</p>
<p>This time when he gets to center stage, he pauses before he starts addressing the crowd.</p>
<p>“Davey,” Jack says softly, “I’m sorry.”</p>
<p>“Jack, what –“</p>
<p>“Pulitzer screwed us over!” Jack says to the boys, through the dizzy feeling building in his head and the nausea threatening his stomach. “He raised the price’a papes, and that was a lousy thing to do. So we got mad, we said we ain’t gonna get pushed around.”</p>
<p>He continues, vaguely aware that he’s echoing himself with even less conviction than the second time around, haunted by the look of shock and horror he saw last night on Davey’s face, the same one he knows without turning around he’s getting now.</p>
<p>Tonight, when Bunsen presses the stack of bills into his hands, he looks almost sympathetic.</p>
<p>Tonight, when Jack feels a small hand tap his arm, he suppresses the instinctive flinch but not quite quick enough.</p>
<p>Tonight, Jack looks across the stage at Davey, standing rooted to the spot with open sadness in his eyes, and he runs.</p>
<p>He doesn’t run all the way to the train station this time, no. That burns like a guilty brand in his chest and he can’t do it again. This time he makes for home, climbing the fire escapes of the lodging house in record time all the way up to the rooftop ‘penthouse’ he shares with Crutchie in the summer months.</p>
<p>“That was some speech you gave,” Katherine says as he vaults over the half-wall at the top of the building. It takes a moment for Jack to fully process her presence, what she’s doing.</p>
<p>“How’d you get up here?” Jack snaps, snatching the drawings he can out of her hands.</p>
<p>“Specs told me you like it up here, I figured it’d be a safe bet this is where you’d come,” says Katherine.</p>
<p>“What, he tell you you could go through my stuff, too?”</p>
<p>“I’m sorry,” Katherine says, and she almost sounds genuine. “I didn’t realize what they were, they were just sticking out of the pipe there –“</p>
<p>“And you figured you’d just have a little look, huh?” says Jack.</p>
<p>Katherine pulls one of the drawings back from Jack’s hands. “This is the Refuge, isn’t it? Is this really what it’s like? Three boys to a bed, rats everywhere –“</p>
<p>“What, little different to how you were raised?” Jack replies. He reaches for the drawing, but Katherine puts a hand on his chest and holds it out away from her.</p>
<p>“<em>Mr. Snyder</em> told my father you were arrested stealing food and clothes,” Katherine says loudly, talking over him. “I don’t understand, if you were willing to risk everything for these boys, why turn on them now?”</p>
<p>“Oh, s’it time to talk about turnin’ on folks?” Jack says venomously, “Because that’s a conversation I think I could add a bit to, since somebody I know went and spilled all to her fucking <em>father</em>.”</p>
<p>“My father doesn’t need me spying for him!” Katherine says, high and stressed. “He’s got people in every goddamn corner of this city, he doesn’t need <em>me</em>.”</p>
<p>“How come he knew Davey’s name, huh? His nickname? The one I fucking gave him, Kathy, that’s something he’d only hear from you,” says Jack.</p>
<p>Katherine laughs. “Or from any newsie in the city! Everyone knows who Davey is now, Jack, and nobody’s calling him <em>David</em>.”</p>
<p>Jack lets out a frustrated noise. “How come you was there when I went to talk to him, huh?”</p>
<p>“He’s my <em>father</em>.”</p>
<p>“And that! You lied about who you were from the first time I met you!”</p>
<p>“I never lied! I – I didn’t tell you everything.”</p>
<p>“Oh,” says Jack, taking a few steps back and shoving his hands into his pockets. Forcing some distance. Because now that he has another place to direct it, all of the rage he’s been inflicting on himself the past few loops is ready to explode out toward Katherine. “If you was a boy you’d be talkin’ through a <em>fist in your mouth</em>.”</p>
<p>“I told you I work for the <em>Sun</em>, and I do,” Katherine says sharply. “I told you my professional name is Plumber, and it is. You <em>never fucking asked</em> what my real name was!”</p>
<p>“I would’a if I’d known I was dealin’ with a dirty double-crosser!”</p>
<p>“Oh, and if I were a boy you’d be looking at me through one swollen eye!”</p>
<p>“Don’t let that stop ya,” says Jack, crowding in close. He’s absolutely dying to get hit again, and if Kath’s the one to do it then that’s just the icing on this awful fucking day. “Gimme your best shot!”</p>
<p>Jack braces for the punch, but it never comes. Instead, Katherine pulls Jack in with her hands on either side of his face, pressing her lips to his in an awkward but energetic kiss. Their height difference is just too much for it to be quite comfortable, the angle a little off, but it’s uncomfortable in exactly the way Jack needs right now.</p>
<p>When she steps back, just as sharp and jerky as she’d moved forward, Jack makes to follow for a moment but Katherine puts a hand on his chest, stopping him.</p>
<p>“I need to know you didn’t fold for the money.”</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>“The money, Jack!” Katherine says, sounding shaky and desperate. “Tell me you didn’t do it for the money!”</p>
<p>“Of course I didn’t do it for the fucking money!” snaps Jack. “What do you take me for, Katherine?”</p>
<p>“A damn convincing liar.” Katherine crosses her arms.</p>
<p>“I was telling the truth,” Jack tells her, deflating. “You win a fight when you get the other guy down eatin’ pavement – we could strike until the end’a days and we’d never get Pulitzer’s feet out from under him. And anyway, I’ve seen – I mean, you heard what he said. F’I hadn’t flipped he’d’a gone for Davey and the others. I can’t have that on my conscience when Crutchie’s already hurt.”</p>
<p>Katherine studies Jack for a long moment. “What if there was a way? Would you be in, or would you hide up here and let the rest of us do the work?”</p>
<p>“I don’t see a way, Kath, and believe me I’ve been tryin’,” Jack says. He drops halfheartedly onto the half-wall, looking at his feet.</p>
<p>“Ah,” says Katherine, “but I do.”</p>
<p>Jack’s head snaps up. “What? No way.”</p>
<p>“What, you’re the only one allowed to have a good idea? Or is it because I’m a girl?”</p>
<p>“I never said –“</p>
<p>“Shut up,” says Katherine. “Look, the strike was your idea. The rally was Davey’s. Mine’s gonna take us over the finish line.”</p>
<p>“What is it?” Jack asks, somewhat despite himself.</p>
<p>Katherine fishes a piece of paper out of her pocket, passing it over to Jack. “’For the sake of all the kids in all the factories, sweatshops, and slaughterhouses in this city.’”</p>
<p>“That’s – I said that, didn’t I?” says Jack, mystified.</p>
<p>“You did,” Katherine replies. “With those words, you made this strike about more than just the newsies. You made it about <em>all</em> the working kids in New York getting screwed over by the people in power. And if we can get <em>all</em> the working kids in New York to work together…” She trails off with a leading tone.</p>
<p>“Maybe we could actually make an impact,” Jack finishes. He scans the page she’d handed him, a typewritten article that Jack supposes was probably written before she found out her father had had her blacklisted. It’s good. Not too long, nothing showy, but it paints him as compelling, makes their cause appealing.</p>
<p>“We call for a citywide strike of child workers and we could bring this town to its <em>knees</em>,” says Katherine. “Even my father couldn’t ignore you then.”</p>
<p>“Great story,” Jack says, “but how’s it a plan?”</p>
<p>“We print my article – maybe with one of your drawings?” says Katherine. “And distribute it to as many child workers as we can, get everyone together in Newsies Square –“</p>
<p>“A’right, a’right, but where’re we supposed to <em>print</em> this?”</p>
<p>“There’s got to be one printing press in this city my father doesn’t control.”</p>
<p>Jack shakes his head, thinking. His neck still hurts from –</p>
<p>“Oh, <em>fuck me</em>,” Jack says quietly. “I know a press nobody’d ever think we’d use.”</p>
<p>“Then what are we waiting for! Let’s go!” Katherine says, making for the ladder. She comes to an abrupt halt, though, turning to look at Jack. “That kiss –“</p>
<p>“You’re a nice girl, Kath, and a smart one,” Jack says, shaking his head, “but I’m not really – not really interested in you like that.”</p>
<p>“That’s okay,” says Katherine. “I’m sorry for – I’m sorry. I let the moment get the better of me.”</p>
<p>“You should’a just hit me.”</p>
<p>Katherine laughs. “I think you’ve had enough of that lately.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, maybe,” says Jack. “We should, uh – we should get going.”</p>
<p>“Right,” says Katherine. “I’ll go talk to Davey and a few friends of mine who might be able to help us with the printing, you rally the boys?”</p>
<p>“Sounds like a plan, Ace.”</p>
<p>When Jack wakes up in the cellar, morning again, he’s so frustrated he actually screams.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. and tomorrow won't remind me of today</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jack knows from experience that he doesn’t have much time between now and when the Delanceys and Bunsen will come for him. So he takes the time he’s got to formulate a plan.</p>
<p>He doesn’t know how to break this stupid loop, but he felt for just a second on the precipice last night and is absolutely desperate to push himself over it. The pain and frustration and guilt is all still there, but by the end of the last loop he was finally starting to feel enough hope for the future that he thought he might be able to push through.</p>
<p>The one thing that’s still hanging over him as a heavy weight is Davey.</p>
<p>Last night, Katherine had offered to swing over and convince Davey to join them, and as convincing as Katherine is, it just didn’t quite sit right with Jack. He knows deep down that the only way they can win this – at least, the only way they <em>should</em> – is if he goes to Davey himself and explains.</p>
<p>If he goes to Davey and apologizes.</p>
<p>He’s got to trust that Katherine will still go to the rooftop if he does the rest like yesterday, and then this time around he’ll be the one to go to Davey. And at least if the loop starts again after that, maybe some of the guilt will have lightened. At least he’ll have tried.</p>
<p>Right on cue, Bunsen, Oscar, and Morris come down the cellar stairs. The Delanceys are stomping, Bunsen following a little more daintily.</p>
<p>“So, young man,” Bunsen starts, and for the first time in days the repetition doesn’t make Jack dizzy, just angry. “Have you thought through Mr. Pulitzer’s offer?”</p>
<p>“For sure.” Jack nods, standing up slowly. “I’m in, Bunsen.”</p>
<p>Bunsen is so startled by Jack knowing his name that he doesn’t spout any bullshit about <em>sense</em> for once, which is good for Jack since he doesn’t think he can hear it again without throwing something.</p>
<p>Jack pauses an extra moment longer in the wings than last night, watching Davey. He’s somewhat in awe – Jack knows this isn’t Davey’s scene, really. He knows this isn’t something the younger boy would’ve ever chosen for himself in a hundred years, getting up in front of a crowd and being a leader, but damn if he wasn’t fucking born for it.</p>
<p>Jack isn’t a leader by nature. Given his way, he’d be more of a supporter, two or three people back from the spotlight keeping everybody else steady. He knows his boys better than anyone, knows how to keep them going and what they need protecting from, but he never asked to be in charge. But Davey –</p>
<p>Davey’s sort of the opposite to Jack, that way. Jack hasn’t known Davey long but he’s seen the way Davey can slip so easily into leadership, the way he can read a crowd and make a plan, the way he can step up and take charge of a situation. But just as much, Jack’s seen the way Davey tries and tries and tries to suppress those parts of himself, tries to be seen and paid attention to as little as possible.</p>
<p>Jack’s had to make himself a leader. Davey’s had to force himself to be a follower.</p>
<p>But right now, with Davey center stage and addressing the boys, Jack thinks all might be right with the world. At least for a moment.</p>
<p>Jack tries not to think too hard about how he’s the one about to ruin it.</p>
<p>He takes a breath.</p>
<p>“You wanna be talked to like an adult?” Jack says, walking toward Davey. “Start actin’ like one. Don’t just run your mouth.”</p>
<p>“And here’s Jack!” Davey says to the room at large, and Jack hates, hates, hates the way he can see the release of tension in Davey’s shoulders just at his presence.</p>
<p>“Davey,” Jack says.</p>
<p>Davey tips his head to one side, frowning at Jack’s tone.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry.”</p>
<p>And then Jack launches into his little speech. It goes about as well as every other time, with all hell breaking loose and Spot taking a swing at him. He ducks into the wings, takes the cash from Bunsen, this time is able to suppress the instinctive flinch at Les’s touch.</p>
<p>Tonight, Jack can’t help looking back across the stage at Davey before he runs. Davey is rooted to the spot, just like always.</p>
<p>“Davey,” Jack blurts, like he’d even be able to hear him through the chaos.</p>
<p>Davey just shakes his head, taking a shaky half step back.</p>
<p>Jack runs.</p>
<p>Sure enough, Kath is up on the rooftop waiting for him.</p>
<p>Tired, Jack says, “It ain’t polite to go diggin’ through other people’s things, you know.”</p>
<p>Katherine jumps. “Jack! I’m sorry, I didn’t realize – you drew these, didn’t you?”</p>
<p>“I did,” says Jack.</p>
<p>“Are they – is this what the Refuge is really like?”</p>
<p>Jack nods. “It’s – it ain’t good there, Kathy. It’s dirty and it’s crowded and nobody gives a shit about whether you survive your time there, and I came out the other side a wreck.”</p>
<p>“Mr. Snyder told my father that you were arrested stealing food and clothing,” Katherine says slowly. “You were stealing them for the boys there, weren’t you?”</p>
<p>“Kath –“</p>
<p>“I don’t understand,” says Katherine. She shakes her head sharply. “You were willing to risk everything for those boys before, why turn your back on them now?”</p>
<p>“I didn’t turn on anybody!” Jack snaps. He wants to steer this conversation differently than yesterday, but he can feel his frustration building. “You were <em>there</em>, Kath! You heard your father threatening Davey and the boys! And you look at what happened tonight and accuse me of <em>turning on my boys</em>?”</p>
<p>“What about the money, huh?” she replies, crossing her arms.</p>
<p>“I don’t give a shit about the fucking money,” says Jack. “I’d have done it for free to keep the other boys safe.”</p>
<p>“Why should I believe you?”</p>
<p>“Why should I justify myself to you?”</p>
<p>Katherine lets her hands fall to her side, stunned. “What?”</p>
<p>“Look,” says Jack, “I’m willing to believe that you didn’t sell us out to your dad. Pulitzer’s a powerful guy, and you wouldn’a written about us how you did if you was only with us to spy. But I don’t think – I don’t think you’re in any position to be tellin’ me off for how I decided to go about things.” He walks toward her, pulling his drawings out of her loose fingers. “Thing is, Kathy, you can’t win a fight against somebody that much bigger’n stronger’n us. We got numbers, sure, but we don’t have <em>that</em> kinda numbers. I was speakin’ the truth tonight. I just don’t see how we can take Pulitzer down.”</p>
<p>Katherine’s face lights up. “I had an idea about that, actually.”</p>
<p>“Oh?” Jack prompts. He lets her explain her children’s crusade plan to him, stages a little moment of ‘realization’ about the cellar’s ancient printing press.</p>
<p>“You got somebody who can run one’a those things, right?” Jack says.</p>
<p>Katherine laughs. “I should. He won’t like being dragged out of the house at this time of night, but I think he’ll be happy to help. Should I stop by Davey’s –“</p>
<p>“No!” Jack says quickly. Katherine raises her eyebrows, surprised. Jack runs a hand through his hair. “No, I gotta – I hurt Davey bad tonight, Katherine. I’ve gotta talk to him myself.”</p>
<p>Katherine hums sympathetically. “Right. Well, meet me at the World in an hour or so?”</p>
<p>“See you then.”</p>
<p>It takes Jack a few minutes to convince himself to actually go looking for Davey.</p>
<p>He finds the younger boy on the roof of his family’s building, standing still and so tense Jack thinks he might snap under the stress of it.</p>
<p>“Go away, Sarah,” Davey says without turning. “I don’t care what Les said, I don’t want to talk about it.”</p>
<p>“Not even with me?”</p>
<p>Davey whips around. “What the <em>fuck</em> are you doing here?”</p>
<p>“Davey, we gotta talk,” says Jack.</p>
<p>“No,” Davey says flatly. “No, no we don’t, I don’t have <em>anything</em> to say to you, Jack Kelly.”</p>
<p>“Then don’t,” Jack replies. He holds up his hands in surrender. “Just listen? Please? Just for a sec. And if you don’t like what I got to say you can throw me off the fuckin’ roof if you want to.”</p>
<p>Davey frowns, his eyebrows pushing together. He shoves his hands into his pockets. “Fine.”</p>
<p>“I’m sorry,” Jack says softly. “I’ve been drowning in guilt for what I did to you, Dave. You didn’t deserve any of that.”</p>
<p>Davey makes a quiet noise, something like disbelief or annoyance.</p>
<p>“I’m serious!” says Jack. “There’s – there’s a lot you don’t know ‘bout what happened tonight, Davey, and I’m real sorry I didn’t get a chance to – to warn you. Or something.” He sighs, running his fingers through his hair again. He’s avoiding the important bit, but he just – well, he’s had a long day.</p>
<p>Davey snorts.</p>
<p>“Pulitzer threatened you,” Jack forces himself to say. “And I have no doubt in my mind that he’d have followed through. I already dragged you into this shit, Davey, I can’t – I couldn’t live with myself if I got you hurt.”</p>
<p>“That’s a risk I took on the second I jumped up next to you on that first day,” Davey says, shaking his head. “I always knew we might get hurt. I told you so.”</p>
<p>“Davey, <em>David</em>, this is different,” says Jack. “I can’t – I can’t watch that happen to you. Not again.”</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>“What do you mean again?”</p>
<p><em>Shit</em>. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”</p>
<p>“You said you can’t watch that happen to me <em>again</em>,” Davey says impatiently. “Explain. Or get the fuck off of my roof and out of my life. I don’t need you wasting my time.”</p>
<p>“I –“ <em>oh, fuck it. “</em>You won’t believe me.”</p>
<p>“Try me.”</p>
<p>Jack studies Davey for a moment. His hands are still tucked deep in his pockets, his shoulders tense, his breathing coming short and sharp.</p>
<p>The only way he will get through to Davey is with the truth.</p>
<p>“This is the fifth time I’ve been through this night, Davey,” Jack says. He holds a hand up to stop Davey before he can interrupt. “I know it sounds crazy, I <em>know</em>, but it’s true. I have fucked the rally up in every way imaginable, and the absolute worst of them was the one night I didn’t scab.” He forces himself to keep steady eye contact with Davey, willing the younger boy to believe him. “If you can believe it, that was the first go around. I knew you’d never forgive me for flipping, no matter what was on the line, but after I watched you get beat half to death by some goon and – and after getting sent off to the Refuge with you and Racer and Les? I couldn’t look back, Davey. I couldn’t do that to you again.”</p>
<p>“I’d rather you hate me for the rest of our lives than let that happen to you again,” says Jack. He pauses, breathing slowly. He can still feel the aches of all of his mistakes. If he concentrates, he can even feel the imprint of Snyder’s fingernails in his arm. “’Specially if Pulitzer ain’t scared enough of us not to make an open move against us like that. It was underhanded, shady shit, but he’d’a gotten away with it clean.”</p>
<p>“And I’m just supposed to believe this?” says Davey, disbelieving.</p>
<p>“No,” Jack admits. “I’d be shocked if you did. I’m not really sure <em>I</em> believe it, and I’m the one livin’ it.” He runs his fingers through his hair again. “Nah, Davey, I just need you to trust me again. Just for a night.”</p>
<p>“And why should I do that, exactly?”</p>
<p>“Because Katherine thought of a way to save the strike,” says Jack. “And I think it could work but only – but only if I can win you back over. Because you might not need me to win the day, but <em>I can’t do this without you</em>.”</p>
<p>“What’s Katherine’s idea?” Davey asks cautiously.</p>
<p>“She wants to put out a call for a citywide strike of child workers,” Jack tells him. He takes a tentative step forward. “With a paper of our very own. She’s got people who can help us with the printing, and I’ve got a lead on a press. We just need the boys for distribution, and the boys ain’t gonna listen to me after the shit I pulled. We need <em>you</em> for that.”</p>
<p>“And you think this’ll work?”</p>
<p>“I think it’ll work.”</p>
<p>Davey studies him for a moment, calculating. “Jack –“</p>
<p>“Look, Davey, I don’t need you to forgive me,” Jack says. “In fact, you probably shouldn’t. I fucked you over, and I – I know that this isn’t enough to make up for that. But please, just trust that I mean this.”</p>
<p>“<em>Jack</em>,” Davey says again. “I’m in.”</p>
<p>“Oh,” says Jack.</p>
<p>“When do we start?” Davey asks.</p>
<p>“I – as soon as possible,” says Jack. “Think you can swing the boys?”</p>
<p>“We’ll see,” says Davey. “Did Pulitzer really threaten <em>me?”</em></p>
<p>Jack could laugh if he weren’t so drained. “Of course he did. How the fuck else was he gonna flip me? I care about you, Davey, probably more than I oughtta. And you’re the most valuable asset this union’s got – you’re the scary one to him.”</p>
<p>Davey seems thrown by this. “You – really?”</p>
<p>“Yeah really, Dave,” says Jack, and this time he does chuckle. It comes out weak and more sad than amused, but it comes out. “C’mon. We got newsies to wrangle.”</p>
<p>He starts to leave but pauses when he realizes that Davey hasn’t followed immediately.</p>
<p>“I knew you were better than this,” Davey says quietly. “That is, I – I hoped.”</p>
<p>“Is it better to know I’m just too weak to watch you get hurt?”</p>
<p>“Than thinking you gave up on everything you said you believed in for a payout?” Davey replies, incredulous. “Yeah. It’s better.”</p>
<p>“I don’t know what I believe in anymore, Dave,” Jack admits. “It’s all slippin’ out from under me.” He pauses, chewing on the inside of his lip. “Know I believe in you, though. I think that might be all I got left.”</p>
<p>He climbs down the ladder then, not willing to face Davey’s reaction to that.</p>
<p>They split up briefly – Jack to go meet Katherine at the World and start getting the press going, Davey to gather up as many newsies as possible – but they’re reunited at the World before long.</p>
<p>Jack spends the whole night on edge. He’s not sure of the exact hour or minute that he’s been snapping back to midmorning, but he’s waiting.</p>
<p>The moment doesn’t come.</p>
<p>And doesn’t come.</p>
<p>And doesn’t come.</p>
<p>Jack isn’t quite prepared to believe that he’s actually finally broken the loop, though. Not as the first Newsie Banner comes off of the press, not as Davey hands off the first bundle of papers to Race to hand out the window to Finch, not as Katherine pulls him and Davey into an ink-smudged hug.</p>
<p>He’s never gotten this far into the night before, and yet it’s hard to believe he might finally have made it through.</p>
<p>It’s not until the sun starts creeping over the horizon, Jack and Davey slumped sleepily against each other in the square, that Jack starts to really believe it.</p>
<p>He’s got a lot of work to do yet – he did a lot of damage last night that printing a paper alone won’t fix – but there’s light on the other side that Jack hasn’t seen in days.</p>
<p>“Hey, Davey,” Jack says, nudging him. “Good morning.”</p>
<p>Davey gives Jack a funny look, but smiles at him. “Good morning, Jack. It’s a new day.”</p>
<p>“Thank God.” Jack shakes his head. “Hey. I’m sorry.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, Jack,” says Davey, patting Jack’s leg. “I know.”</p>
<p>He’s going to be proving it over and over for as long as he has to, but Jack’s looking forward to having the chance. He’s looking forward, period.</p>
<p>It feels like a bit of a miracle.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>And here we are! I hope you guys liked this one, I know it was a little weird but I loved writing it and really embracing my newsies niche for a couple thousand words. We're a full year of Newsies fics down, who knows how many to go.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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